


Behind the Walls

by Trekiael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Bottom!Cas, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekiael/pseuds/Trekiael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are brought to the most secure prison of all times, where guards are angels. Under the pristine look, things are twisted and the inmates complete freaks. Good thing Dean finds the best distraction there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This will be multi-chaptered with *gasp* an actual plot.
> 
> I apologize in advance for the lack of women in this.
> 
> Since it will be my first time writing most of these characters, I hope they won't be too ooc...

The road was a little bumpy under them, making both Dean and Sam bounce lightly on the metallic benches. They were not talking, or at least not outloud. They knew each other so well that most important things were said through their eyes, leaving their mouths used for random shit. Especially Dean's. He had a knack for talking a lot to cover up his actual thoughts.

 

The van finally screeched to a stop on gravel, and after a few moments of fumbling, the double doors were opened, allowing them out. The air was fresh on the shore, biting even, but a pleasant change from what they were used to. They were guided to a boat, a fairly small thing made to host only a few passengers, but that could reach good speeds if pushed right.

 

No one talked as the boat glided on the surface of the water, and about halfway there, Dean could distinguish the silhouette of their new residence trough the fog, huge and imposing.

 

Purgatory.

 

The facility wore its name well. A place where lost souls were locked in until deemed able to move back into the civilization. Which, considering the type of place it was, sorely happened. Most likely, when you were brought there, you stayed there.

 

It wasn't the safest place there was because every single inmate was a dangerous killer, but because every single one of them would be able to get out of any other one if someone made the mistake to underestimate their abilities. So you could be the smoothest con artist that never physically hurt anyone but still being brought there to prevent you from escaping.

 

Most of the time, by the time your sentence was over, you would have prolonged it by a few years, though, because no one entering Purgatory stayed sane for long.

 

Dean and Sam were not part of the Innocents, as were called these types. But even them could feel that under the looming presence of the cold building, staying sane would represent a certain challenge. But hell, if anything, they were the types to tackle challenges heads on.

 

A heavy, iron gate raised, followed by two other ones, to let the boat in. It slowed to a stop by an edge made of solid rock that looked slippery from there. Everything in the alcove was as unwelcoming as it could be, moist and cold and hard.

 

As soon as the boat stopped, men in blue entered the place from behind yet another iron gate on top of stairs, decending one after the other. They were at odds with the place, all pristine in their finely pressed uniforms, looking high and mighty and no to be messed up with.

 

Angels.

 

As they were called, though looking at them, Dean already knew he would call them 'Dicks'. They were the guardians. Highly trained to the point of brainwashing. The perfect little soldiers. Smart and strong, but made to follow orders and protocole to a T.

 

There were five of them, all getting down the stairs in a straight line, then standing next to each other in front of the boat, the stick so far up their asses that their backs were ramrod straight. The last one stepped in the middle of the four other ones, one step ahead, looking straight at them.

 

He was a fairly good looking dude, but in a way that reminded Dean uncomfortably of a younger version of John, their dad. Although where John was tough and rough, this guy was as stuck up and pristine as the others, maybe even more so.

 

“Whinchesters. Welcome to Purgatory.”

 

The sharp gaze glanced over at Sam but settled on Dean, looking him up and down, asserting. Dean had been on the receiving end of both disgusted and appreciative looks. This was neither, merely cold acknowledgment.

 

Dean thought the entire ceremony was rather ridiculous. They were still standing in the boat, which was slightly moving with the waves sploshing against its sides. The heavily armoured officers circling them were now standing as straight as the angels, automatically copying them. The angels themselves were standing still, not even a lock of hair out of place.

 

So far, Dean was not impressed. Sure, these guys could probably outmatch him in a fight, as they were trained to do, but they seemed so completely brainwashed Dean was completely certain he was going to have some fun taking them off guard. If they thought he would be an obedient dog, they were in for a surprise.

 

Two guards reached behind them for the handcuffs holding their hands firmly attached and undid them. Dean held back a sigh of relief, the constant pull on his shoulders having rendered his arms numb after a while. But he was mostly surprised by the fact that their hands were now free, completely.

 

The angels obviously thought that they could control them without these. Dean knew that despite their above average heights (especially Sam's), they looked more like underwear models spending most of their time at the gym admiring their muscles than criminals. It was fine by him. The least threatening they looked, the more people tended to underestimate them.

 

“My name is Michael.”

 

There was a pause. Dean expected him to say something else, but there was nothing. Maybe they were supposed to say something themselves? He sent a confused look to Sam who answered with a similar expression. That was awkward as hell.

 

“Come now.”

 

Michael turned on his heels and started walking away, two angels following. The two others waited, obviously for them, and with no other choice, Dean and Sam exited the boat. They were flanked by the two other angels, as expected, and followed the first three out of the room.

 

Once they passed the gate, Dean noticed that from the inside, it was actually a lot more high tech than it looked from the outside. The gate was controlled by a panel with both a code and a card slot. There were also video cameras at every angle. This part was still very much dungeon-like, though, and he wondered what the actual facilities looked like.

 

It didn't take long to find out. After travelling down the corridor and up another staircase, they found themselves reaching the hall. It was... Depressingly pristine white. From floor to ceiling, which was very high up. Everything looked perfectly new and clean, which was freaky as hell for a prison.

 

Michael turned towards them.

 

“Your schedule goes as follow: You will wake up at 7, except for those on night shift, for your breakfast. At 8, you start your daily chores. At noon, you have a lunch break. At 1:30, you are to go back to your chores. At 5, you are on a break. At 6:30, you are to take part in some kind of physical activity. At 8, you will have dinner. And finally, curfew is at 11.”

 

Tight ass schedule, but not as difficult as it could be, Dean supposed. Enough to keep them busy and tired, but not too cranky. Obviously they put some thinking into that.

 

“By 'physical activity', do you mean that I can lock myself in a room with someone?”

 

Dean was smirking. Michael didn't even blink.

 

“I mean sports. If you want to engage into homosexual intercourse with your companions, do it on your free time.”

 

Dean's ears burnt a little. Right. He hadn't really thought this through. Fucking meant fucking guys, obviously. Still, he was surprised that this was condoned. Then again, it was probably better to have them fucking than fighting. He hoped that it didn't mean they turned a blind eye to rape.

 

“Let's continue.”

 

Michael led them down a corridor, to a room that sounded busy from the outside. He typed a code on the door, that Dean sadly couldn't catch, and used his card to finish opening it. As it turned out, it was some kind of laundry room. There were two angels, one on each side of the door, and another one behind a counter, working on some papers. In the back, Dean could distinguish inmates in ugly orange pyjamas busy clenaing, ordering, ironing and folding more orange pyjamas and pristine white sheets.

 

“You will have two sets of uniform. Every day you must bring the dirty one to clean, wearing the other. And every day you must come fetch a clean one. So that means coming first once in the morning, then a second time in the evening.”

 

The angel behind the counter placed two piles on top of it, each containing two folded orange monstruosities, and a pair of shoes without laces.

 

Dean grimaced and looked at the angel.

 

“I don't suppose you have them in another colour? Like, I dunno, not-orange?”

 

The angel merely blinked back at him, as if not understanding the question.

 

“...Nevermind.”

 

Sam was the first one to take his pile, obediently, like the good boy he was. Or at least made other people believe he was. Because if Dean didn't give a crap about authority, Sam was the type to do the exact opposite of what was asked of him. Dean was pretty sure that Sam was considering how to disobey without acting like he was right at that moment.

 

They exited this room carrying their new clothes to follow Michael yet again to another one. This one was more heavily guarded, and once inside, it was easy to see why. The room was crammed with computers. Only angels were inside, though. And damn, how many of them were there?

 

While Dean was busy looking around, Michael went to a counter and came back holding two bracelets. They were open, and blinking orange.

 

“You will wear those at your ankle. You are not to take them off, at any time.”

 

Dean's heart dropped a little. Shit. He hadn't seen that one coming. Damn sneaky bastards.

 

“I'm not much one for jewellery ya know...”

 

Dean could swear he heard a few angels make a slightly amused noise, and he grinned. He, of course, loved an audience. Though most of the angels didn't even react, and that was just downright depressing.

 

“Even if you are wearing these and are under close watch, you are still free to go in any of the authorized sections during your free time. Because of this, during breaks, you are to report to your room every 45 minutes.”

 

Great. More rules.

 

“What if I'm stuck in the toilets with a very bad case of diarrhea?”

 

Non pulsed, Michael zeroed on him.

 

“There is a way to report about your location when you are in the bathroom. If you still are there on second call, someone will come check on you.”

 

“What happens if we don't report at all?”

 

This time it was Sam who asked, and Michael turned his attention to him.

 

“Isolating cell. Your time spent there will be, for each rule broken, depending of the severity of these.”

 

Dean was pretty sure he didn't imagine the glint in Michael's eyes at the mention of that cell. Dean exchanged a look with Sam.

 

Once the bracelets were securely wrapped around their ankles, they left the security room and went back to the hall.

 

“Any more rule will be explained by the angel asigned to you. Your guardian angel is the one you will be able to talk to if something bothers you, or if you have any request. You may 'pray' to him by pressing on the call button on your bracelet.”

 

Dean glanced down at the bracelet hidden under his pants. Damn, he was tempted to call the guy right now.

 

“Your guardian will be introduced to you tomorrow. For tonight, you will be brought to your respective cells. Good night.”

 

With that, Michael left. Dean was not sorry to watch him go. He was a little annoyed that he and Sam wouldn't get to share a room, but he was not really surprised about that. Not that it would change much anyway, as they knew how each other's minds worked so well that they only needed a signal.

 

They were led upstairs, where all the cells were located. On each perfectly white door (Dean was already growing sick of all the white), a number was written in black roman letters, fancier than any prison should be. Two of the angels stopped in front of number XXX while two others continued down the corridor, indicating for Sam to follow them.

 

“See ya later Sammy! Be nice to your roomy!”

 

Sam snorted.

 

“I'm the one who should be telling you that.”

 

Dean grinned at the angel beside him, who didn't even glance at him, busy unlocking the door. Dean's grin slipped until he was giving the dick a flat look, which went, too, ignored.

 

The door was opened to reveal a small but not too shabby room. The beds were bunk ones, but not the shaky, fragile type, each one actually held more by the wall than the floor. Obviously made to whistand the weight of heavy men. And considering the size of the one in the bottom one, it was good thinking.

 

Figured Dean would have to share a bed with a guy bigger than himself. The guy had very short hair, small but clear blue eyes, and giant paws dwarfing the book held in them. He looked up from the book, straight at Dean. He miled a little then, and Dean was a little relieved that it wasn't unfriendly.

 

The giant put his book face down on the bed and got up, coming closer until he was standing right in front of Dean. He wasn't all that much taller, shorter than Sam (but then again, who wasn't?), but so big Dean almost felt like a kid compared to him. Still, there was something incredibly unthreatening about him, like his strength wasn't made to hurt but to protect, and Dean didn't know what to make of that.

 

A giant paw was raised.

 

“My name's Benny.”

 

Dean tentatively clasped the big hand, shaking it firmly, once again surprised that the guy didn't try to crush Dean's smaller one with it.

 

“Dean.”

 

“Alright Lafitte, go back to your bed. Winchester, you change.”

 

Dean turned to the angel that spoke, a pretty blond guy that looked like he was dressing up as cop for a strip tease more than he actually was one. Not that the other, taller, was much better. Dean took the bundle of clothes casually held under his arm out and dropped it on the small desk.

 

He stripped quickly, not very amused at being under such close watch while doing so, but the angels didn't look particularly interested, and Benny was back to his book, politely not looking at him at all. Finally, he was in the ugly orange thing, only now noticing his name and serial number on top of a breast pocket.

 

The angels took Dean's stuff and put them into a plastic bag.

 

“Your belonging will be given back to you at your exit.”

 

Dean shrugged. These were just random clothes he had quickly put together. All his actual belongings were safely locked in a storage room, their dad's, along with Sam's. He didn't honestly believe he would ever see those again.

 

“Curfew is in an hour. Your guardian will be the one to wake you up. Good night.”

 

Benny raised his gaze from his book long enough to nod at the angels, who left and locked them in. Dean hadn't noticed it being so late already, but then again, without watch or phone and locked into the fortress, it was pretty much impossible to. At least there was a big clock on the wall over the desk.

 

He dropped on the chair, stretching his legs in front of him.

 

“So, Benny. What you in for?”

 

Dean's tone was casual. Some prisoners didn't want to answer that question, but Dean knew that if asked casually enough, they were more ready to deliver. Benny didn't look like he was going to bite Dean's head off if asked, and if Dean was wrong, then it was a good way to find out more about the mountain of a guy.

 

“Pirate.”

 

Dean blinked.

 

“Pirate?”

 

Benny looked at him with a small smile.

 

“As in, 'Arrr! And ye may lay to that!' Pirate?”

 

Benny chuckled and nodded.

 

“Yes, something like that. Without the parrot or the wooden leg.”

 

“Holy shit. You're fucking with me, right?”

 

Benny stood up and raised his sleeve, exposing a tattoo.

 

“No I'm not.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to comment but the door opened on an angel, a different one.

 

“Lafitte. You're up.”

 

Benny nodded and placed a bookmark in his book before putting on his shoes.

 

“Up to what?”

 

Benny looked up into his confused eyes.

 

“I'm part of the night shift team. The Vampires.”

 

Dean grinned.

 

“What? So you're a vampirate?”

 

Dean looked at him with wide eyes, and Dean looked back, a little alarmed.

 

“...No one made that joke before.”

 

“You shitting me. No one? Dude, that was easy.”

 

Benny chuckled and briefly clasped Dean's shoulder before leaving the room, following the angel outside. Dean laughed a little to himself. He already liked that guy.

 

He went to bed feeling a little confused. So far, this place didn't look that bad. Sure, the angels were obviously dicks, but Dean had known prison guards that spent their time barking orders and beating up inmates. And in a place like this, no one would be able to protest. Also, it was a little too white and clean for Dean's tastes, but at least it wasn't some disgusting crappy place that reeked of piss and blood.

 

As it was, he didn't know what to think of it. He didn't genuinely think that he was going to like it there, but as of now it didn't look like Hell either. He couldn't wait to find out more. And especially to meet his guardian, hoping he wouldn't be too much of a dick.

 

He had barely closed his eyes that the door opened. He sat up and looked at the clock. Fuck him, it was already 7. Benny was back, and snoring in the bed under his. But Dean's attention was entirely on the angel that entered the room, steps sure and a determined look on his face. Dean's brain was too foggy to make any kind of sense, so the only thing that popped in was 'fuck, that guy's hot'.

 

Shaking his head to chase the thought off, he caught the gaze of the guy, who looked steadily back.

 

“Who're you?”

 

“I'm Castiel. I'm your Guardian Angel from now on, Dean Winchester.”

 


End file.
